Dreams and Nightmares
by Lachenna
Summary: One-shot prequel to "The Forgotten Touch". Lenalee's nightmares have been growing more frequent lately. What's going on with this new one? AllenxLenalee. The nightmare contains character death and other nightmare things.


A/N: So, this was originally supposed to be a cute little story about Lenalee realizing her nightmares had stopped because she was in love with Allen... It went a little off track.

Warnings: I creeped myself out writing this. My sister was creeped out when she edited it. Her exact words were "That dream is super dark and really sad." So proceed at your own risk.

Also, this is a prequel to "The Forgotten Touch" and contains spoilers for the first three chapters of that story. The spoilers are very minor. However, if you don't want any of that story to be ruined, don't read this until you've read at least those first three chapters.

.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.

My nights were always filled with dreams. They always had been for as long as I could remember. Vivid images of what my life would be like under different circumstances filled my head as I slept. But 'dreams' is really the wrong word. These were nightmares in every sense of the word.

The one I had the most often was the most terrifying. It was of the end of the world, headquarters was destroyed, and my friends lay dead around me. It was horrible seeing everyone I loved like that. But by far the worst part of this nightmare was that it was possible for this one to come true. As an exorcist, I lived in constant fear that my nakama wouldn't return from their missions.

Sometimes I'd dream that I had never been brought to the Order, that my life as an exorcist was the dream, and I was still living back in China with Komui. Instead of being a good dream, that one always ended in men in dark cloaks ripping me from my brother's side and hauling me to the headquarters of the Black Order. How much of my childhood trauma I relived was all dependent on how long I stayed asleep.

But lately I had been having a different dream. And this one was infinitely scarier than the others were.

I'd wake up alone in a large bedroom. The soft white walls were broken up with gauzy drapes in various shades of blue, the fabrics blowing in the breeze from the open windows. The vanity, dresser, and bed frame were all carved out of a light maple. Together with the soft tan carpeting, it felt as if the room were actually the beach. I couldn't help but lay there and take in the peaceful feeling.

But then the aroma of cooking food would reach my nose, and my mouth would water at how delicious it smelled. I'd get up and calmly make my way down the carpeted stairs to the kitchen.

It was a basic kitchen, with all the conveniences current technology had to offer, whitewashed walls and wood cabinets that matched the little table in the middle of the room. But the truly impressive thing about this room was the people that were in it.

Standing over the stove, cooking whatever it was that smelled so good, was Allen Walker. His snow white hair was still messed with bedhead, but he was completely dressed in his usual attire: black pants and boots, white dress shirt, and grey vest, though with the addition of a plain white apron. He stood with his back to me, allowing me the chance to stare at him and take in the wonderful view.

But then I'd find my focus turning to the table. Sitting on his knees in one of the simple wooden chairs was a five year old boy. His unruly white hair spilled into his face, and everything about him, from the way he was dressed to the way he sat in the chair, gave him away as Allen's son; the boy could have been his clone.

He leaned over the table, concentrating hard on the paper and coloring crayons in front of him. Then he'd suddenly look up at me, and his face would light up with the brightest smile I had ever seen. "Mama!"

He'd hop out of his chair and run over to me, making my heart clench. _Allen's son knows me as his mother_. It almost made me cry out of sheer happiness.

Then the boy would latch himself onto my leg, gripping it in a fierce hug. I'd lean down, intending to pick him up, and that's when I'd notice the size of my belly. I was very heavily pregnant. But this was a good dream, and I instinctively knew that the child was Allen's, my pregnancy was intentional.

Brushing that aside, I'd settle for tousling the boy's white locks since I was unable to return his hug in my current state. And as he smiled up at me, that's when I would finally notice that he wasn't completely Allen's clone: his eyes were violet like mine. I actually _was_ this little boy's mother; and with that realization, I somehow knew that he had been conceived on our wedding night six years earlier.

That's when Allen would turn his focus from the stove, fixing his sparkling silver gaze on me. It was a breathtaking sight. "Good morning, Lena. Breakfast will be done in just a minute. Why don't you sit down and rest your feet?"

Then there'd be a tugging on my hand as our son led me towards the table. I'd sit down in the chair he would pull out for me, the boy a perfect gentleman like his father, and my hands would subconsciously begin caressing my belly. From how big and heavy it felt, I could only gather that I was due soon.

Allen would pause his cooking to come over and give me a kiss. Then he'd turn his attentions on my belly, placing a tender kiss on either side of my belly button. "I hope you two girls are being nice to your mother, she's been working really hard to make sure you're growing well."

Then he'd smile brightly and return to the stove. I'd sit there in silence as I'd watch Allen finish cooking, too stunned over the revelation that there were twins inside me to make conversation with him.

The plates of food were set out on the table, Allen would help our son cut his French toast, and then we'd all say grace. Together As a family.

In the blink of an eye, breakfast would be over. Allen and I would fight over who would do the dishes, and he'd get his way, ordering me to sit my overdue pregnant ass back in my chair. I'd stick my tongue out at him, but then our playful spat would be interrupted by a knock at the back door.

Before I could stop him, our son would run over and throw it open. But there was no need to worry. The purple haired visitor laughed as he picked the boy up and threw him over his shoulder. The giggle filled cries of "Put me down, Uncle Komui!" were music to my ears. Watching my brother play with my son was heaven.

And right as I would think that I wished that _this_ was my real life, that I wished I wouldn't have to wake up in the middle of a war, that's when everything would go wrong.

It started out simple: a harsh contraction as my water broke.

Komui would leave to fetch the midwife, and Allen would attach himself to my side, escorting me to a downstairs bedroom.

But as my labor progressed, the contractions getting harder and more painful, that's when our little boy would start coughing up blood. He convulsed painfully as the thick red liquid dripped down his chin. Leaving my side, Allen would run frantically over to the child, who continued to lose more blood as his coughing fit worsened. I wanted to help, tears pouring from my eyes as I watched my baby suffer, but the ferocity of my contractions kept me pinned to the bed.

Allen always reached the boy too late, catching his fragile body as it fell lifeless to the floor. He'd scream out his agony as loud as he could.

And then, as I looked on in horror, the Millennium Earl would appear in front of Allen as he sobbed over our son's dead body. Powerless to stop it, completely trapped by the pains in my belly, I could do nothing but watch as Allen became an akuma, the metal skeleton killing him and putting on his skin.

Komui and the midwife would arrive then, and the akuma that was my son's soul possessing my husband's body, would take its true form and kill them both.

Then the machine would turn its sights on me, take aim, and fire.

...

...

...

I'd wake up just before impact, drenched in sweat, and beyond relieved that my stomach was still flat and toned.

But as the fear from the nightmare faded, I'd remember why I was having it in the first place, that my stomach wasn't going to be flat for much longer. Much like in the dream, I was pregnant with Allen's child.

Or at least I was pretty sure that I was. The vomiting and missed period made it rather obvious, though they could easily be signs of something else. I'd be back at headquarters tomorrow, I'd go see the Head Nurse, and then I would know for certain.

The next thing to happen was always the same, no matter when I had the nightmare. As soon as I remembered that I might actually be pregnant, the body on the bed beside me would stir. That messy white hair would catch the moonlight as its owner rolled over. Allen would smile softly as he kissed away the tears on my cheeks, then he'd pull me into his chest and wrap his arms securely around me. It was the one place in the world where I felt the safest. And somehow, I only had this specific nightmare on nights we were together.

I knew why that was though. The nightmare wasn't just a manifestation of my fear of losing my baby; I was terrified of telling Allen what he'd done to me. I was so scared of losing him that I couldn't bring myself to tell him I might be pregnant.

Tonight was different though. Instead of whispering soothing nonsense like he usually did, Allen asked a question. "Would it help to tell me about it? You've been having this same nightmare every night for the past week."

I snorted. "Are you suggesting that you know me so well that you can tell my nightmares apart?"

"No. Just this one." He echoed my laughter and kissed the top of my head. "When you have this one, you wake me up when you yell for me to stop. Tonight you shouted, 'Allen! No! Don't do it!'" He kissed my hair again. "So what is it that I do that you don't want me to do?"

I sighed deeply. There was something in his body language that told me that he wasn't going to let me get out of telling him. "The dream always starts out so nice: you cooking breakfast while our son colors at the table. We laugh and have a great time during the meal, and then we fight over which of us gets to do the dishes."

Allen interrupted with a brief derisive laugh. "That's your idea of a good dream? Me doing all the cooking and cleaning for you?"

I scoffed and kicked his shin playfully. "I'm heavily pregnant in this dream; _you_ would never let me lift a finger in that state."

"Ok, you got me there." There was something sad in the way he laughed that made me wonder what he was thinking about. "What happens after breakfast?"

"Komui comes over to play with our little boy. And that's when... that's when my water breaks." I expected Allen to interrupt then, but all he did was pull me closer, his fingers playing with my engagement ring. "While I'm in labor, our son starts coughing up blood. He dies before you reach him. And then I'm forced to watch as the Earl shows up and you become an akuma. I wake up just before you kill me."

The moonlit room fell into silence as I waited for Allen to react. I wished I could see his expression, but the way we were laying made that impossible. The wetness on my hair told me that I had made him cry. "Lena, I- ..."

When he next spoke, his words came out in a hurried jumble. "I would never do that again, you know that, right? I learned my lesson when I tried to bring back Mana."

I twisted in his arms so that we were facing, leaning close to kiss the pentacle on his forehead. Seeing how upset he was, I decided against telling him tonight. I needed my pregnancy to be confirmed before I shared it with him. "I know. And that's how I can be sure it's just a nightmare, of all the possible ways you could be taken from me, that's not one of them."

Allen captured my mouth before I could say more. We kissed passionately, tongues entwining as we fought to get closer to each other. It broke the tension in the air, and we soon fell back asleep. Safe in the other's arms.


End file.
